A clanking noise from the kitchen jarred me awake. My body flinched.
My mind geared into overdrive as I remembered the threatening note on my windshield, the road rage, Ernie Gomez, and the feeling someone was out to get me. Trembling, I drew the gray polka-dot duvet up closer, suddenly chilly and vulnerable.
Iris’s foxlike head popped up from the mound of pillows like a vigilant soldier’s from a bunker. Another bang of metal and Iris was having none of it. In a second, she cracked the air with one shrill bark followed by nonstop yapping. Before I had a chance to catch her, she’d made one of her kamikaze leaps off the bed and shot out of the room in a flash of cream sable fur. I threw off the covers and jogged after her, or tried to. The best I could muster was a wobbly stagger, making me feel like a bobble-head toy. It didn’t help that Otis chose to lope in front of me, freezing to a standstill every few steps.
As I hobbled down the hallway in unsteady strides, I heard a soft thud and Ashley shout, “Oh, fudge!” After I’d found the note on my windshield, I’d phoned Ashley and Adrian and sent them both a photo of the note. Ashley insisted on coming over to spend the night. Adrian thought that was a great idea and made us promise to lock up well and call him at any hour if we felt unsafe.
When I walked into the kitchen, Ashley was picking up a heap of Cheerios from the floor and dumping them into the trash bin. Two frying pans were on the floor as well.
“Good morning?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at her predicament.
“Not so far, apparently.” She stood and stepped back to survey the remaining mess, hands on her hips. “I’m sorry. My plan was to make you breakfast.”
Iris was having a field day with the Cheerios. She snorted like a little pig as she lunged at them furiously, in a race to chug them down faster than Ashley could clean them up.
“Iris, no!” I bent down to scoop up handfuls of cereal while Iris gobbled at a more frenetic pace.
Ashley observed Iris, laughing. “I like the way she obeys you.”
“She’s been trained by food rewards. Obviously not the best system when food is what you don’t want her to touch.”
“I can relate. The struggle is real.”
“Stop or you’ll explode!” I made a grab for Iris, but she sashayed away, gorging herself on cereal as she did. I succeeded on my third attempt and swept her up into my arms as she still snapped at the Cheerios stuck on her fur.
Ashley guffawed. “Iris, you like it when Auntie Ashley comes for a sleepover, don’t you?”
“Yep. Fun times. You clearly have made her day.”
Ashley winked. “Hmm. Maybe I should try the same tactic with men. Just throw food at them.”
I laughed while I poured myself some coffee. “Worth a try. It might work. Is it okay if I take a rain check on breakfast? If we’re lucky enough to get the Hotel Santa Sofia bid, I’ll be slammed with work for a while. So I want to catch up on all my other stuff, just in case.” And by other stuff I meant looking through my father’s files for evidence of any financial improprieties.
Ashley looked at her watch. “Yeah. I should actually get going too. But let’s go out for breakfast soon.”
“Definitely. It’s a date.”
I walked around my backyard with Iris. Usually I let her out to run around and do her business on her own or, when I’d had the time, I’d take a few laps around the yard to add steps on my Fitbit watch. But in light of the menacing note, we stayed outside only as long as necessary. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hurting my little nugget.
I quickly showered and pulled on a camel sweater dress and chestnut suede boots. When I arrived at my office in the main building, the nursery parking lot across the street was full, despite it only being seven thirty. Most nursery employees arrived at the crack of dawn. My idea of early coincided with their breakfast break, marked by the arrival of Cynthia’s food truck, a Santa Sofia fixture for as long as I could remember. Cynthia did a thriving business at our nursery since her tasty fare was a favorite of our employees and all the itinerant workers who congregated outside our gates looking for landscape jobs. Many of the workers lined up at the truck wore Wallington work boots. Jed and Matt Ortega, Jed’s second in command, stood near the truck chowing down their breakfast. My gaze panned to their feet—both of them wore Wallingtons too. Well, crap. What I’d hoped would be a slam-dunk clue to ID the killer had totally missed the mark. It seemed everyone and their brother owned a pair of Wallingtons. Unless I figured out a way to discreetly examine all their soles, I was back to square one.
I sipped coffee at my desk and resumed digging through my dad’s files. Tucked into a folder marked “Loans” was a spreadsheet of various small loans made to employees over the last couple of years. Most were small loans to nursery workers, gardeners, and clerical staff. Matt Ortega had been loaned fifteen hundred dollars early last year and repaid it six months later. As I scanned the spreadsheet, one name leapt out from the page, Veronica Benning. She and Uncle Bob each had become wealthy from Benning Brothers’ success and both had drawn good salaries as Chief Financial Officer and Vice President. Why on earth had she needed to borrow two thousand dollars several months ago? I ran my finger along the row. She’d paid it back a couple of weeks later. Well, that was strange. But at least my father had it marked as paid in full. So, no harm no foul. I wondered whether Uncle Bob knew she’d borrowed the money. And if he did, I wondered whether Aunt Veronica knew he knew.
In about an hour, I’d gone through all the files in my dad’s desk, happy I’d be able to report to Uncle Bob that nothing seemed out of line since no loan was over five thousand dollars and all had been repaid. None would have anything to do with embezzling, I presumed.
I took a break to check my emails. One was from the Hotel Santa Sofia Corporation with the subject line “Hotel Santa Sofia Condominium Landscape Design Competition: Announcement of Winning Bid.” My heart palpitated with excitement and I took a deep breath. As soon as I glanced at the first word in the message, “Congratulations,” I let out a whoop. I opened the email and danced in my seat as I read further, “Your bid has been selected as the winning proposal for the Hotel Santa Sofia Condominium project in North Santa Sofia, California.”
I ran to Uncle Bob’s office. “We got the condo job!”
He jumped out of his seat. “That’s fantastic! Congratulations, Tory!”
“Thanks!”
We high-fived each other.
He gave me a big hug. “Your dad would be so proud of you!”
“I only wish he and Milo were both here to join in the celebration.”
Uncle Bob paused. “I have a feeling they’re both smiling down at us right now.”
I nodded rapidly, struggling not to cry and feeling all the emotions. Joy for the accomplishment and income. Sorrow that my dad and Milo weren’t here to share in the jubilation.
Uncle Bob gave me a pat on the back. “Good job, kiddo!”
“Thanks again for always being there for me through thick and thin.”
“My pleasure. Like I said, your dad would be proud.”
Nothing like good news benefiting our company to minimize our differences. Uncle Bob acted as if I’d never gotten annoyed with him about his statement to Adrian, and so did I. I floated back to my office on cloud nine, reveling in the exhilaration of winning such a competitive and large bid. Back at my desk, the enormity of the upcoming job started to sink in. I now had tons of work to do and was ready to dig in. Reaching for my phone in my purse, I came across the note left on my windshield. My neck and shoulder muscles knotted up. When I spoke to Adrian last night, he’d asked me to drop the note off at the station at my earliest convenience. I figured I’d do it on my way home later today.
Sam would be in class. I called and left him a message, “We got the Hotel Santa Sofia condo job, which means I need an assistant. Hope you’re still interested. Call me!”
Ashley had texted me. Something came up. Can’t make lunch. Sorry. What did Adrian say when you dropped off note?
I texted her back, Haven’t seen him yet.
Ashley responded after a few minutes. Wait a minute. You know legit PI. Call Jake and see what he thinks. Can’t hurt. Plus, he’s hot. She ended her text with a winking emoji.
I dug around in my purse and found Jake Logan’s card. Normally, I might hesitate. Was I being too obvious and forward? Because those blue eyes! But this wasn’t personal. This was business. And, after all, he’d been a witness to yesterday’s road rage incident. That cinched it. I was in a kickass mood anyway and was impatient to check “threatening note” off of my to-do list. Besides, I kept running into him everywhere I went. I still wasn’t sure whether those meetings had been coincidences or intentional. He just might welcome a call from me.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey. What’s up?” Playfulness emanated from his warm drawl.
“I’m afraid this is a business call. I wanted to get your professional opinion about something that happened last night. When I came back from walking my dog, I found a note on my car’s windshield telling me to back off. Is it common for people to leave menacing notes? Have you seen that a lot?”
His voice lost its warmth and his words became clipped. “Common? Not really. I’ve seen it a few times.”
“I’ve never received a menacing note before. But since it appeared on the same day someone tried to run me off the road, it definitely got my attention.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t sound like a coincidence.”
“Right? I’m positive they’re related. I called Adrian and he thinks so too.”
“What did the note say exactly?”
“I’ll read it to you. ‘Mind your own business or next time you won’t be so lucky.’ It’s all in caps.”
“That’s definitely a threat. And, in my opinion, I’d say it’s definitely referring to the earlier incident. I wouldn’t take it lightly.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not.”
He chuckled. It was a warm, hearty chuckle. Dare I say a sexy chuckle? Was there such a thing? If there was, he nailed it.
“I’d like to see the note. Are you free for lunch?”
I mumbled a “Yes,” suddenly nervous about getting through a lunch with those darn blue eyes of his.
I texted Ashley that Jake and I’d agreed to meet at Sadie’s Seafood Restaurant at noon. A few minutes later, she responded with a thumbs-up emoticon and a heart.
• • •
Sadie’s lobster rolls were absolutely to die for. I fantasized about the butter-drenched lobster chunks cradled in the crust-trimmed bun as I sailed down the Avenue toward the ocean. Soon I was cruising along the Promenade, taking in the expansive view of the encroaching high tide, with frolicking whitecaps frosting the surface of the sparkling indigo sea. I turned onto the pier, bumping along, the weathered wooden planks clicking and clacking loudly under me, and pulled into the wharf parking lot, a wide area at the base of the pier spanning both the beach and ocean. I continued on foot along the pier as it extended over the water, invigorated by the brisk breeze tousling my hair yet warmed by the sunrays peeking through dollops of puffy clouds that dotted the baby blue sky. October in Santa Sofia was a grab bag of weather extremes. One day I wore shorts and flip-flops. The next day I wore Uggs and cashmere. Today’s dense morning fog had dissipated into low clouds currently in the process of burning off, keeping temperatures cool and creating the semblance of an East Coast autumn. When I reached the restaurant, Jake was at an outside table soaking up the fall sunshine in a gray shawl-collared cardigan over a white shirt and jeans, wearing shades, basically looking like he’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad.
Focus. This lunch might be more challenging than I’d originally thought.
The waiter took our drink orders and returned quickly with two sturdy white mugs filled with steaming coffee. He placed them on the table and then waited for us to order.
Jake studied the menu. “Everything looks great.”
“It is. Well, everything I’ve tried. Which is pretty much the hot lobster roll. It’s so good I can never order anything else.”
Jake chuckled heartily, apparently charmed by my wit.
That chuckle!
“Okay, I’ll make it easy. Two lobster rolls, please.”
The waiter expressed a strong approval of our choices and nodded approvingly when we both opted for the coleslaw side.
“Now that all the important decisions have been made, did you bring the note?”
I reached into my purse and laid it on the table.
Jake studied it. “This was pinned under your wiper?”
“Uh-huh.”
He took out his phone and clicked a couple of shots. Just then it occurred to me I could have simply taken photographs of the note and sent them to him too. A few seconds later, I realized he could have requested I do the same. Was it really necessary to view the note in person? Or was it me Jake wanted to see in person? My face heated at the thought and I turned away from Jake, pretending to intently observe a group of noisy seagulls at the table behind me.
When I turned back to face Jake, he’d taken off his sunglasses and his eyes were twinkling with amusement. “I didn’t know you were such a wildlife aficionado.”
Oh, man. Why did he have to take off his sunglasses? His incredible blue eyes were so distracting. I stuttered a response. “Um, yes, er, no, well, seagulls, they can get aggressive.”
“Thanks for the warning. You have a protective streak. Good to know.”
Heat rose up to my face again. “So, what do you think about the note? Should I take it seriously?”
“In my professional experience, nine times out of ten, threatening notes are just that, an empty threat. But . . .”
I gulped as he hesitated, blurting out my worst fear. “One time out of ten they follow through?”
“Yep. The good thing about this note, if you can call anything about it good, is that it isn’t specific. It doesn’t say, for example, next time they’re going to kill you. It’s just a general threat.”
“If that’s the good part, I’m almost afraid to ask what the bad part is.”
“The bad part is the timing. You got this right after someone actually ran you off the road. That’s assuming you didn’t go on social media and describe your near miss in detail immediately afterward?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t mention it to anyone between the time it happened and when I got the note. Only Sam, Ashley, and the police knew about me being run off the road, besides you and me. I’ll ask Ashley and Sam if they mentioned it to anyone else. You didn’t tell anyone, right?”
“Correct. So, if we assume the person who wrote the note was the same person who ran you off the road, we know we’re dealing with an individual who doesn’t make idle threats and has already resorted to violence.”
I shuddered at the thought. “In other words, I should mind my own business, as the note cautioned.” I gestured with air quotes. “The scary thing is I pretty much was minding my own business before I was run off the road.”
“Here’s the thing. We really don’t know what ‘mind your own business’ refers to. Does it refer to Benning Brothers’ business? Is Benning Brothers involved in any disputes with former employees? With competitors?”
I scrunched up my face. “We just got awarded a big job. The other two companies on the short list are our competitors, but neither of the teams is local. One firm is based in Santa Barbara and the other in LA. And while jobs are scarce, I can’t imagine anyone I know from those firms acting in a threatening manner.”
“But sometimes something can trigger a seemingly normal person to become deranged.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I poured milk into my coffee as I reflected on my elation at hearing we won and imagined my disappointment had we lost. We’d have to scramble for several smaller jobs to stay afloat. If a firm was already in the red, losing out on a big bid could be catastrophic.
Jake took his turn with the milk. “I know so. I’ve seen it many times. Everyone has a breaking point.”
“All I’d done that day was go to the police station as requested, visit my aunt and uncle, and take my cousin to lunch. I asked each of them questions, but how is any of that not my business? They’re my family. It’s not like I was interviewing Jo’s friends or anything like that.”
The warmth left Jake’s eyes and he leaned in. “You’re not thinking of doing anything like that now, of course, are you? Because you value your life, right?”
“Well, I need to find out who killed my husband and aunt before the SSPD decides to pin it on the low-hanging fruit—yours truly.”
He stirred his coffee. “My understanding is you’re on good terms with the police, especially the guy from the other night, Adrian, the one you just referred to.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet. “I have his card—Sergeant Adrian Ramirez.”
“Yeah, I am with Adrian. But one of the other cops, Ernesto Gomez, not so much. He’d do anything to make himself look good at the expense of harming others in the process. I’m not going to stand back and let Ernie get promoted to lieutenant by arresting the wrong person—me. I didn’t kill my husband, and I didn’t kill my aunt Jo or Esmeralda or whatever name she called herself, even if I was the last one to see her, which I’m sure I wasn’t. And I’m certainly not going to let my uncle get arrested because he’s being evasive, for whatever reason. I know he wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone his own sister.”
“Tory, let Adrian find the killer. He strikes me as a good guy.”
My phone rang and Sam’s name appeared on the screen. “Let me get this. It’s my cousin.”
“I got your message about getting the condo job. Awesome. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. So, is that a yes on my assistant job? Flexible hours.”
“Definitely. And thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Great. Can you come into the office this afternoon to fill out some paperwork?”
“Yes. What time? I get out of school at two today and I can come by right after that.”
“Sounds good. Oh, Sam, while I’m thinking of it, did you mention to anyone about us being run off the road yesterday?”
“I told my parents.”
“Okay. Anyone else?”
He hesitated. “No. Why?”
“Someone left a note on my car yesterday warning me to mind my own business. It seemed to refer to us being run off the road, so I was wondering if you’d mentioned it to anyone. I’m trying to figure out whether it’s a real threat or a prank.”
He gulped loudly and his voice cracked. “Did the note say anything else?”
“That next time I won’t be as lucky.”
“Whoa! That’s cold.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Anyway, let’s keep it on the down low, please, and let the police deal with it.”
“You told the cops?”
“Yeah. And the private investigator you met yesterday, Jake Logan.” I smiled at Jake. “Anyway, see you at the office later.”
When I looked up, Jake’s stare unnerved me. “Sorry. I wanted to tie that down. That was about the big job I mentioned earlier—we won the bid for the Hotel Santa Sofia condo project.”
“Congratulations. If I’d known, I’d have ordered champagne.”
“I’ll have to take a rain check on that. Champagne would make me conk out.”
“We’ll have to schedule an evening celebration then. How’s Friday evening for you?”
Heat whooshed up to my face as I went through the motions of checking my blank calendar. I didn’t think Gym would mind. “It’s a date. I mean an appointment scheduled on that date.” Great. Way to be awkward.
His stare made my heart flutter. “Great, how does seven sound?”
“Sounds perfect.”
He put it on his calendar in his phone as our food arrived.
As usual, the lobster rolls didn’t disappoint.
“This is incredible.” Jake held the delicacy like a harmonica.
“Told you.” I patted my mouth with my napkin.
Jake blotted the butter dripping on his hands with his napkin. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted better coleslaw.”
His phone buzzed. When he checked its screen, he frowned.
“Everything okay?”
“Duty calls.” He took out two twenties. “Sorry. I have to take off.”
“Let’s split it.” I handed him back one of the twenties.
“If you insist. He stuffed the bill into his pocket, stood up, and laid his hand on my shoulder. “See you Friday night.”
• • •
Two hours later, I was back at my desk. Ernie had left another message in a gruff voice. “This is Sergeant Gomez again. I still need to talk to you. Call me.” Why so formal with the “Sergeant Gomez,” I wondered. I supposed intimidation was a tactic he’d found useful to get people to comply with his requests. Well, it wasn’t working with this girl, at least the compliance part, but the intimidation was definitely taking its toll as I fidgeted with files on my desk and had a sudden craving for chocolate. I needed to put Ernie off until I had some concrete evidence to eliminate myself as a suspect. If I got railroaded into an arrest, then I wouldn’t be able to search for the real killer. I needed a plan. I pulled out a pad and pencil and made a list of people I needed to talk to, starting with my own family. Something was up with Uncle Bob and Aunt Veronica. I wondered what they weren’t telling me.
A tap on my office doorjamb interrupted my thoughts. Sam stood in the doorway. “I’m here to fill out my paperwork.”
“Great. Let me get you the forms.” I went to the cabinet where we kept tax forms and handed them to him.
In the hallway outside my office, Jed Barnes, our nursery boss, paced.
“I’ll be right back, Sam.” I got up and pulled the door of my office shut to let Sam work undisturbed.
I motioned Jed to an office across the hall and closed the door. “Hi. Can I help you with something?”
He lowered his head, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry to tell you but some of my workers are upset about you hiring Sam.”
“Excuse me?”
“They’re calling it nepotism.”
The news had spread as fast as the encroaching wildfire. There were two main problems with running a family business: family and business. It was hard to switch gears from personal to professional relationships and vice versa. Longtime employees, like Jed Barnes, felt like family and, because of this, they sometimes acted like actual family members instead of employees in personnel matters, particularly if an instance smacked at all of favoritism. I couldn’t blame them. I had my own ax to grind when it came to working in a family business. As both a female and family member, I felt like I had to work twice as hard to prove I was worthy of any advancement I made and that I’d earned it fair and square.
Jed read my pained expression accurately. “Look, I know we’ve been over this many times before. I’m not the one objecting. It’s my workers. They’ve been grumbling about it.”
“Who exactly? Is it Matt Ortega? He’s the only one I know who’s expressed interest in transferring into our landscape design division recently.”
Jed glanced up and then away again. That look implied it must be Matt. I felt like telling Jed to tell Matt, and anyone else who got their noses out of joint over Sam’s hiring, to mind their own beeswax, but instead I mustered some self-restraint.
“Wow, news travels fast. I just offered the job to him officially today. How’d they find out so fast? Please tell your workers it’s a temporary position only, for the length of our new project. He’s still in high school, for goodness sake. And please convey, politely, of course, to your employees to not jump to conclusions and to remember the context. This poor boy just lost his birth mother. I’m trying to keep him busy and be here for him if he needs someone to confide in since, unfortunately, I can relate all too well to his situation. I urge you all to have a little empathy.”
Jed’s face reddened. “I see what you’re saying. But several of my employees see it differently, is all. And I don’t want to lose them over something like this, something that can be easily avoided. Especially with the holiday season getting into gear.”
The nursery made most of its money during Christmas, and we’d definitely be in trouble if key personnel left us in the lurch at this time of year.
I couldn’t tell whether Jed was embarrassed to be bearing bad news or whether he was threatening me. Feeling defensive, I raised my voice. “You think they’d quit over me hiring Sam?”
“Hey, calm down. Don’t kill the messenger. All I’m saying is they’re unhappy and they wanted me to let you know.”
I took a deep breath and tried to diffuse the heated emotions in our conversation. Switching subjects, I forced a smile. “Is that a new watch?”
Jed broke into a prideful grin and scooped up the pocket watch attached to a chain on his belt loop. “The opposite. It’s practically an antique. It was my grandfather’s.” The gold watch was engraved with the initials “TK.”
“How nice to have a family heirloom like that.” I sighed. “Sorry, Jed, if I came off as defensive. Please tell your guys message received.”
After a peaceful parting, I went back to my office, where Sam sat quietly looking at his phone. He smiled when he looked up. “Finished everything.”
I bumped his fist. “Good for you. You’re way ahead of me. I haven’t even received all the paperwork from the Hotel Santa Sofia Corporation yet. Say, that’s a nice phone you got there. Is it new?”
His phone looked about four models newer than mine.
The smile left his face. “Yeah. Esmeralda gave it to me for my birthday.”
“How nice. Sorry.” Awkward. “She must have cared greatly for you, and I’m sure you must miss her.”
He shifted his eyes from side to side, as if uneasy talking about Jo. “When do I start?”
“I have a conference call set up with the prime architects on Wednesday. In the meantime, they’ll try to send me their timeline. Our design concept usually comes in toward the end of the project, after the buildings’ construction costs and design are calculated. Then we’ll work with the remaining budget. But we’ll consult with the architecture team and the other subconsultants throughout the process to make sure everything is in line and goes as planned. I’ll need to make another site visit soon to take some measurements and photos. Maybe you can come with me?”
“A road trip? Cool!”
I smiled. “It’s only about ten miles away but, yeah, we can call it a road trip. Hopefully this time we won’t be run off the road. We’ll have to schedule it so we can stop for a late lunch along the way too. Make sure you leave me your schedule.”
He handed me a sheet of paper. “Here it is. I’m off at one on Fridays.”
“Good to know. Thanks.”
He excused himself and crossed the hall to stop by his father’s office. After he left Uncle Bob’s office, I dropped by myself. Uncle Bob glanced at me. The creases around his eyes softened his expression, and I saw the warmth that had replaced the more distant look he had lately.
“Your son is officially my new assistant.”
Bob beamed. “So I’ve heard. Thanks, Tory. Just what the doctor ordered to get his mind off things.”
“That’s what I’m hoping, but apparently the nursery workers have already gotten their panties in a twist. The claim of nepotism has once again reared its ugly head.”
Bob sighed. “Oh, no, really? Who is it this time?”
“Jed told me about the griping but wouldn’t name names. I suspect Matt Ortega. Jed made it sound like Matt might quit over it. I’m not sure if he’s being dramatic or stirring the pot because he’s bored or if the nepotism rumors are, in fact, true.”
Uncle Bob made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Matt’s one of our best guys. Can’t imagine him being that petty. I’d hate to see him leave. Okay, let me poke around and see if I can find out what’s going on. Told you running a business can be a pain in the butt. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
My neck aching from tension, I went back to my office a bit demoralized. The euphoria of winning the bid had been diminished by the stress of disgruntled employees. Plus, I also worried about the effect winning the bid would have on Chandler Architects’ attempt to acquire Benning Brothers, if any. Ugh. I remembered something my therapist had once told me. When problems weigh you down, make sure you take care of yourself first. Pamper yourself to relieve the stress. To me, of course, this meant yummy food and a hair appointment with my Philip.
I fiddled with my hair. I could use a haircut. I texted Philip and asked him if he had any availability. He was usually booked well in advance, but I lucked out—he had a cancellation for later in the afternoon. Perfect. I’d swing by the police station to give Adrian the note then reward myself at Clementine’s, Santa Sofia’s premier bakery, with a cup of tea and one of their melt-in-your-mouth gingersnaps on my way.